


Wake up

by PhoenixInTheNight



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Drug Use, Gen, I'm so sorry, Overdose, Sherlock Relapses, Slightly ooc Sherlock I guess, Suicide, trigger warning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-11
Updated: 2014-01-11
Packaged: 2018-01-08 08:51:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 929
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1130646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PhoenixInTheNight/pseuds/PhoenixInTheNight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based off a post on tumblr: http://mycroftholmes.tk/post/72402524341</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wake up

**Author's Note:**

> Trigger Warning for: suicide, drug-use, overdosing  
> Lots of Sherlock & Greg feelings here.  
> I'm so sorry. I'm not a good writer.

It had been seven months, three days and four hours since Mary had given birth to a beautiful baby girl.

Six months, seventeen days and twelve hours since John had stopped coming round.

Six months, twelve days and two hours since he'd phoned Sherlock and said _"I need to spend more time with my family Sherlock. I have a daughter and a wife who need me. We can still be friends though, I just won't be around as much."_

Sherlock sat alone in 221B most days, staring across the room at the armchair where John used to sit. His violin sat in the corner - unused since the wedding. Occasionally Mrs Hudson would come up and make him tea, or Lestrade would arrive and try to get him involved in cases but nothing got a reaction. They'd phoned John several times but only got through to the answer phone. They took it upon themselves to make sure Sherlock wouldn't starve or die of dehydration. They found some grey jogging bottoms and a white t-shirt and changed the detective into those. Every night, he would curl up in John's armchair and fall into a fitful sleep.

Seven months, twenty-one days and five hours after the phone call Sherlock disappeared. Mrs Hudson ended up phoning Lestrade in a panic who then proceeded to get the entire police force on the lookout. They found him half-passed out in an alley, track marks all up his arms and needles surrounding him. Lestrade took him back to 221B and stayed by his side, even as the detective vomited and insulted him. Once Sherlock was asleep, Lestrae took his phone from his pocket and phoned John.

" _Hello, this is John. Sorry I can't get to the phone at the moment, please leave a message after the beep and I'll get back to you as soon as possible."_  He groaned and silently knocked his head against the wall. John never got back to them. Well, it wouldn't hurt to try again would it?

"Hello, John? It's Greg. Again. Listen, I really need you here - Sherlock needs you here. Just, call me back? Please?" He hung up and resisited his urge to throw his phone across the room. Instead he pocketed it and went to check on Sherlock again. He'd vomited again, chunks of food stuck to his face and caught in his hair.

 

* * *

It had been nine months, three days and fourteen hours since the phone call. Sherlock had started responding once again, going out on cases and helping to solve them. He stopped disappearing every night; only vanished for a few hours once or twice a month, never saying where he went. Mrs Hudson and Lestrade found him passed out several times, and ended up taking him to the bathroom where he would wake up and then proceed to throw up before falling asleep once again. They found more and more track marks up his arms as time passed on, but never brought it up. He was responding, and for the first time since the phonecall, he didn't appear to be angry or hurt by John. It was a start, and they would take what they could.

* * *

It was a week before the two-year anniversary of Mary and John's wedding when Sherlock disappeared. Mrs Hudson searched the entire building, but there was no sign of him. It was as if he'd just stopped existing. Lestrade phoned John to ask if he knew where Sherlock was, but was only answered with the voicemail. He got the entire police force out looking for the detective, but to no avail. Then, on the day of the anniversary Lestrade recieved a phonecall from an incredibly distressed Sherlock.

" _He left.. H'promised me we would be friends. But he LEFT! HE LEFT ME AND I LOVED HIM."_ His voice was hoarse and sobs echoed down the phone. _"So 'm gonna end it where it began. Home. Maybe he's gonna come home."_ The detective slurred.

Lestrade jumped into his police cruiser and flicked the lights on, speeding to 221B before all but throwing himself out of the car and bolting up to find Sherlock. He did find Sherlock, almost passed out in John's armchair. Empty plastic packets littered the floor, needles strewn amongst them and one still in his arm. Lestrade yanked his jacket off and threw it to the floor, ignoring his phone falling out of the pocket and rushed forward and pulled the needle out, shaking Sherlock roughly by his shoulders. "Wake up. WAKE UP!" He continued shaking Sherlock's shoulders, lightly slapping the detectives' cheeks in an attempt to rouse him.

Weakly, Sherlock coughed and opened his eyes. They were red and unfocused, but managed to settle on Lestrade. He put all of his effort into raising a hand and taking Lestrade's into his own. Taking a deep breath, he managed to wheeze out "I'm glad you're here.. Greg. Thank you for being here." before closing his eyes one last time and stilling.

Frantically, Greg shook Sherlock's shoulder with one hand, screaming for Mrs Hudson to phone an ambulance. "Come on Sherlock! Come on, wake up. WAKE UP, DAMMIT. WHY DO YOU HAVE TO REMEMBER MY NAME WHEN YOU'RE DYING?!" He kept Sherlock's hand in his, watching the paramedics rush into the room and mill around Sherlock. He sat there as they pronounced the detective dead and took his body away in the ambulance. He stayed there for an age, not noticing the tears streaming down his cheeks. Somewhere in the room his phone began to vibrate.

**_Caller ID: John Watson_ **

**Author's Note:**

> I'm so sorry, please don't hate me.


End file.
